


Chooƒe your faces wiseley

by TheDove



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Pre-Scene: Body Swap (Good Omens), body swap scene (Good Omens), don't mind me I'm just filling in the gaps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 07:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21295532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDove/pseuds/TheDove
Summary: What can an angel and a demon do while facing the possibility of being free of Heaven and Hell, after they've successfully avoided Armageddon?Crowley and Aziraphale get off the bus to Oxford and find out.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Chooƒe your faces wiseley

**Author's Note:**

> I've been dying to write a proper body swap fic ever since that episode aired.   
I know it's been sooo long but I hope you can still enjoy it <3

And so the bus drove on, well past Oxford, until the last couple of passengers got off at the same stop in central London.  
Aziraphale let go of Crowley’s hand as swiftly and as naturally as he had taken it when they got onto the bus in Tadfield, but found himself stopping in his stride as he got off- he’d just then realised he did not know exactly where it was that Crowley lived.  
“It’s this way” said the demon, unsure whether he should take the angel’s hand to guide him towards his flat, or if it had only been a momentary grace to be confined to the ride home, never to be spoken of again, like so many other things … “we’re not that far.”  
They walked on, as they sometimes did, in amicable silence.

Just as soon as they’d gone through the doorway, Crowley remembered that what remained of a certain former coworker of his was still on the floor of his study, and that it might not make for the warmest of welcomes into his home.  
“Wait here Angel. I just have to- err.. be right back!” He switched on the lights and rushed down the corridor. 

Ligur’s clothes lay in a crumpled pile just in front of the door and Crowley stepped inside wondering how the hell he was going to get rid of it, since there might still be some holy water on them … should he risk miracleing it away? Wait for it to dry off completely? Maybe he just needed to put his apron and gloves on and- and then, just like that, the pile was gone.

“It’s alright” said Aziraphale, who had followed him in “What happened here?”  
“Looks like it wasn’t a suicide pill after all” Crowley smiled tentatively, but the angel did not smile back; instead he drew his breath as if he were about to speak but then thought better of it. The action was repeated several times until he simply let out “I bet they won’t be quick to forget that.”  
“No, I suppose they won’t”.

It had been a long strange day and even though what Crowley wanted most would have been to fall asleep and not wake up until at least a decade had passed, he feared they were both still in danger- and he had no idea what to do next.

Aziraphale had walked past him and was quietly getting acquainted with his surroundings, taking it all in, one could say, it was, after all, his very first time in Crowley’s flat.  
“How stylish” he mused aloud “very … modern.” He’d never given much thought to what it would look like, Crowley’s home, but he supposed this big, caught-up-with-the-times space suited him, just like his clothes. He was so busy examining what appeared to be an original Leonardo da Vinci sketch that he didn’t notice Crowley slowly removing his sunglasses and staring at him, almost in awe.  
Aziraphale was there in his study, never had such an instance presented itself before- never had he dared to hope it would. And yet, there he was. There they both were.

“Angel I- I thought you were gone.” the relief of finally saying the words out loud washed over him with the force of a wave against jagged rocks “I thought I’d lost you. Forever.”  
“Oh Crowley” Aziraphale was suddenly next to him, meeting his gaze, and then, almost like an afterthought, he had opened his arms ever so slightly giving the demon a dignified chance to avoid the embrace he was offering. Crowley didn’t take it and let himself be held. “Oh Crowley I am so sorry.”  
Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around the angel who, in turn, rested his cheek gently against his shoulder, looking away, as to not intrude onto whatever thought had been causing such pain to transpire from those yellow eyes he knew so well.  
“And then- then I didn’t think we’d make it.” It was barely a whisper, why shouldn’t it have been? they were so close, but the weight of those words prompted Aziraphale to take a step back, one hand still on Crowley’s shoulder and eyes suddenly filled with worry.  
“But did we make it? I fear-“  
What was there to fear exactly? How suspicious it was that neither Heaven nor Hell had made a move to smite or reclaim them since Armageddon failed to happen so many hours ago? It wasn’t very like them- after all legions of angels were armed and ready for battle- he had seen them!, could they have been so easily persuaded to let go? and with nobody to blame … surely they were the ones to blame and then there would be hell to pay.  
“I need to sit down.”

“Of course -this way Angel” Crowley gently steered him into the plant room and onto a sofa that hadn’t been there a second before. 

“Oh Crowley” Aziraphale’s expression not only softened, but positively lit up at the sight of all that lush greenery “They’re magnificent!” 

Crowley shot the plants a look that made them tremble slightly and then smiled at his friend, who was still looking at the stalks and leaves surrounding them in awe of Crowley’s own little Garden.

“I’m sorry I said we weren’t friends and you were right I do like you”  
Crowley blinked, unsure of how to process what could possibly have been Aziraphale’s most straightforward expression of his feelings for him in the whole six millennia they’d spent together.  
“I know Angel.” 

And Aziraphale looked at him, like he’d looked at him earlier on the bench, and earlier still on the tarmac, and across from every restaurant table, and back in his bookshop that had since burned down, he looked at this demon he called friend like he were seeing him again after years spent apart like he did back in Paris, back in Rome, back in Jerusalem. Back in Eden.

“There must be something we can do!”


End file.
